Collection of Drabbles and Oneshots
by mastermoriarty1895
Summary: This is a collection of Stony Drabbles inspired by Loki. They'll each be under 3k word count. I'm not sure if the rating will go up (probably) but for now it's K because of a bit of language. Tell me if it needs to go up, though.
1. What's the aftermath of their 1st fight?

**_Okay, so this will be where I pull all my Stony drabble things that have been inspired by Loki's questions, because she is amazing and inspires lots of feels, and are under 3k words. So, if it has a word count of over 3k, it'll be put as a separate story._**

**_These won't all go together! It is not one continuous fic, it's a group of smaller ones that I put in one place because I can._**

**_Just because this fic is labeled 'complete' doesn't mean it won't get updated, it's just not technically a 'work in progress'._**

**_Sorry for the long intro._**

**_Thanks to Loki for inspiring me and H for helping me focus on writing it. You guys are awesome._**

**What's the fallout of their first fight?**

* * *

**Aftermath And Apologies**

**Stony**

Steve turned away, Tony's voice still ringing in his ears. He wasn't going to fight anymore, not now. Now, it was late and he was going back to his room to sleep.

Three hours later and he still hadn't fallen asleep. Giving up hope he stood up and walked to his desk where his sketch book lay upon, a half drawn picture of Tony's smile stared up at him. Sighing, he turned the page and pulled out a pencil.

._-*-_.

Tony sat in his lab, his anger slowly fading into the familiar numbness the alcohol brought. He hadn't meant a word he'd said, and he didn't know why he'd said them, either. All Steve had done was show concern for Tony's health. Sure, it was annoying when he did that mother henning thing, but it wasn't that bad, so why'd he flip out on Steve?

_Because he was getting too close to you and you were actually falling in love and he was going to leave eventually so at least this way it won't hurt you that badly._ The little voice in the back of his head informed him. _You did it because you're a coward._ Tony shook his head and resolved to drink until he couldn't hear the voice anymore.

._-*-_

Steve made his way to the kitchen, yawning. He hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep a night all week. He'd begun to wonder if maybe he'd been too hard on Tony. After all, Tony tended to push people away and Steve knew that. Steve knew Tony hadn't meant anything he'd said, it was a defense mechanism, a wall he threw up whenever someone got too close.

Tony hadn't come out of his lab all week and Steve was tempted to go find him and drag him out, force him to shower and eat something other than those disgusting protein bars he kept in his lab. But Steve never did. That was the whole reason they were fighting, because Steve had shown he'd cared and Tony'd thrown it back in his face. No, Tony would be fine in his lab. After all, he'd survived thirty-some years without Steve, he didn't really need him.

Steve shook his head and opened the fridge, grabbing the carton of eggs. He'd make breakfast then he'd go use the gym or something.

._-*-_.

Tony stepped out of the elevator, hand on his stomach. He'd been sober for twenty-six hours so far, and he was starving. He turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped. Steve was sitting at the breakfast bar with his back towards Tony.

Tony hadn't seen Steve, well, he hadn't seen anyone really being in his lab and all, but, still, mainly Steve, since they had fought. He couldn't remember what they'd fought about, really, just that he'd said some really nasty things and the fight was his fault. He should just apologize, really, but his pride wouldn't let him.

Tony hesitated in the doorway, debating on whether or not to just go back to his lab and come up later after Steve was gone, but a low growl from his stomach quickly made up his mind. He came for food, he would get food, he wouldn't talk to Steve, and he'd go back to his lab and wallow in self-pity for another week or two. That was the plan.

Tony walked into the kitchen, purposely avoiding Steve's gaze. He opened the second cabinet and grabbed a box of poptarts. He used to never each them, but Thor liked them so they became a permanent fixture on the shopping list.

He hopped up on the counter and pulled out one of the shiny foil packages and opened it, wincing as the sound tore through the silence of the kitchen. He looked up when he heard Steve push back his chair.

"You shouldn't sit there, you know." Steve muttered, walking past Tony and to put his plate in the sink.

"What are you, my mother?" Tony attempted to joke.

"No." Steve sighed, not meeting Tony's eyes. He turned on the tap and began to wash the plate slowly.

"It was just a joke, Cap." Tony mumbled, biting into one of the pastries. "Look, Cap-" He began, his mouth full of poptart.

"Tony, don't." Steve looked up from the water. His eyes were sad, heartbreakingly sad, and he looked like he hadn't slept in years. "Don't talk with your mouth full. I can't understand a word you're saying."

Tony wanted to laugh. He swallowed before speaking again. "Cap, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I was an asshole. I'm sorry."

"You were." Steve agreed, drying his hands on a towel.

"I know." Tony nodded. "And I'm not asking you to forgive me or anything, and I get it if you don't want to speak to me again, but I'm sorry. I just, I pushed you away and I really wish I hadn't. I didn't mean any of it." Tony rubbed his eyes. This wasn't the plan. He wasn't supposed to apologize or feel guilty, but damn it, Steve looked so sad and that was Tony's fault. Tony had hurt him and made him look so broken and _why the hell did he have to be such a prick to Steve?_

"Tony." Steve shook his head. "I-"

"No, I get it, Cap. See ya, around, okay?" Tony smiled at Steve before sliding off the counter, sticking the second poptart in his mouth, and began walking away. He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Just, stop running away and listen to someone besides yourself for once, okay? Please?" Steve pleaded.

Tony turned around so he was facing Steve. He really didn't want to be told how much of an ass he'd been, but Steve sounded desperate, and Tony owed him at least to listen. "Okay." He nodded, the poptart falling from his mouth. "Dammit."

Steve looked down at the broken pastry. "Really?"

"I forgot about it." Tony shrugged.

"Of course you did." Steve smiled slightly before clearing his throat. "I forgive you, Tony."

"But you still don't ever want to speak to me again. Got it." Tony nodded and turned to leave.

"Would you shut up and stay put?" Steve glared at him. "Just, stop trying to run off. I forgive you, and I'm sorry I pushed you too hard. I know you don't let people close to you and I should have walked away and let you breathe. I tried to force you to change, and even if that change would have been for the better, I shouldn't have pushed. You were an ass, yes, but you weren't the only one at fault. I'm sorry, too."

Tony stared at Steve in silence. He was apologizing for trying to help. _For trying to help._ This, this is why Tony should have stayed in his lab. Steve was a good guy, a great guy, and Tony would ruin that just by being around him. He couldn't do that to Steve, he-

"Tony?" Steve reached out, taking Tony's hand. "Stop it. I know what you're thinking, and I want you to stop. Right now."

"It's true, though." Tony muttered, looking at the floor.

"It is not." Steve pulled Tony closer. "I don't care if you think you aren't good enough, because you're wrong. You are brilliant and amazing, and I swear to you, you are perfect." Steve brought his free hand up to cup Tony's cheek. "I know you think you aren't, but you need to stop. I love you, I do, okay?"

"But-"

"No. No buts. You are, I mean it. You are everything to me, okay? Don't think stupid things." Steve leaned down and brushed his lips against Tony's. "Okay?"

"Okay." Tony nodded. "I'll try." Tony leaned into Steve's chest. "I'm sorry."

"I know, love." Steve let go of Tony's hand and wrapped his arms around him. "Now, you need a shower."

"I know." Tony laughed. "I will if you let me go."

"I'm never letting you go." Steve smiled.

"Then you'll have to shower with me." Tony teased. "But thank you."

Of course. Steve pulled away and wrinkled his nose. "Now go shower. You smell like alcohol and grease."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Tony smirked.

"It is." Steve deadpanned.

"Ouch, that was mean."

"Go. Now. Or you're sleeping in your own bed tonight."

"I'm going, I'm going! Geez." Tony laughed as he walked off. He knew this wouldn't be their last fight, but he could deal with that if Steve could. And if even if Steve was pissed at him, he still cared, which was a rather new concept to Tony, but he figured he'd get used to it, having someone care about him, no strings attached.


	2. What if Tony got shot?

_**Okay, so this is another one inspired by Loki. (Actually, she inspires a hell of a lot more, but I'm too lazy to type them up. I will someday, though.) But, she is awesome and I do apologize for being Satan and for the crappy quality of my writing. Thanks for putting up with my dumb ass, dear, you are amazing.**_

_**The prompt/question/thing for this one was: **_**'What if Tony got shot?'**

_**So, this is what came out of it. Yeah...**_

_**Oh! All my works are now on Ao3, including the one's in this collection thing, but on there, they are separate (because it makes it easier posting to tumblr and because I'm bored and feel like fucking with things) so, if you care, the details are on my profile. :)**_

_**Right, moving on and getting back on topic. Here we go!**_

**He's Gone**

* * *

Steve yawned as he exited the elevator. It was nine in the morning and Tony still wasn't home. Steve figured the conference had run a little later than expected and he'd missed his flight, so rather than drive all night to get home, he'd simply crashed at Bruce's for the night and he'd be back sometime around noon. Which was good because Peter had a science fair tonight and he knew Tony wouldn't miss it for the world. God, he was so proud of Peter. Only fourteen and already competing with college level students.

Steve stretched as he entered the den, he planned to go for a run this morning, but he wanted to call Tony first. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweat pants and dialed Tony's number. It rang a few times before _"Hello?"_

"Tony, I was just-"

"_Psych! Seriously, I can't believe you still fall for that, Cap. Sorry, babe, I can't get to the phone right now, but I'll call you back soon, just leave me a message, okay? Love you and I'll talk to you soon."_

Steve could hear the smile in Tony's voice. Tony had insisted on keeping a phone specifically for Steve to call. _'Because I shut off the other one to avoid work, and this way you can get a hold of me whenever you need to, see?'_

"Hey, Tony, I was just calling to see if you were okay because you didn't make it in last night, and to remind you of Peter's science fair tonight. It's at seven, so, don't forget about it, okay? Not that you would, but just in case. So, just give me a call back when you get this. I love you." Steve hung up the phone and set it down on the coffee table. He smiled and glanced at the ring on his left hand. It was getting close to their twentieth anniversary, two weeks away. Tony had mentioned renewing their vows and Steve couldn't wait. Twenty years with Tony, most people couldn't believe he could stand the Stark playboy for that long, but then again, they only knew Tony by the mask he put on for the public.

Steve shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. He made his way to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bottle of water. He uncapped it and took a drink, he wasn't going to bring it with him, though, he hated carrying things as he ran, his shield and the occasional person being the exceptions, so he returned it to the top shelf and closed the door. He turned around just as his phone rang. Probably Tony calling him back.

Steve smiled and quickly sprinted to the phone, checking the caller ID just to confirm that it was indeed Tony, he answered it. "Good morning, Tony."

"Uh, sir, I'm looking for a Capsicle?" The voice on the other end belonged to a man, but not Tony. He sounded somewhat bemused.

"Yeah. That's me, sorry, it's Steve Rodgers. Who is this?" Steve laughed lightly. It was just like Tony to save him as something so stupid.

"This is Officer Andrew Milligan with the N.Y.P.D. I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you." The man's voice was gruff but sympathetic. "Last night, around three A.M. we got a call about a gang-related robbery downtown near Eddie's Pizza and, uh, well, never mind the details. The victim, a Mr. Anthony Stark, I'm assuming he's the Mr. Stark, was shot three times in the chest. He didn't make it. Your number was the only one in his phone, so, I assume you're close, correct?"

Steve didn't answer. The phone fell from his hand, thudding softly on the carpet. This wasn't happening. This was some cruel joke. This couldn't happen. Tony was with Bruce, this was a mistake, false identification. Tony could not be dead. He couldn't be.

"Sir? Sir, are you still there? Sir, we need you to come to the coroner's office and identify the body."

_The body._ That's what Tony was now, wasn't it? Just some corpse slowly rotting on a cold slab of metal. But he was so much more than that! He was Tony Stark, he was Iron Man, he was so much more than a body, and yet, none of that mattered now.

It didn't matter that he had a family, a husband and a kid, well, two kids, if you counted Wade, which, though Tony would never admit to it, he did. It didn't matter that he was a hero who saved the world on a daily basis, or that he took more risks than the rest of the team. It didn't matter that he meant everything to Steve. It just didn't matter because he was dead.

He was never coming home, ever. He wouldn't sleep in the same bed as Tony again. He wouldn't see Tony's smile or here his laugh. Tony wouldn't ever bitch him out about turning down his music again. He'd never crack a lame joke in the middle of a fight or laugh at Steve's concern for his safety again. He'd never help Peter with his homework or work on old cars with Wade. He'd never blow up the oven trying to do something nice for Steve. He wouldn't stand in the middle of the kitchen in a soot stained apron smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head as he said 'Takeout, then?' He'd never do anything again, because he was gone.

And the worst part was, he'd probably tried to help the kid. He probably tried to stop the kid from making a huge mistake. He'd probably tried to tell the kid that he was so much better than this and he didn't need to prove himself to a world he'd never be accepted by anyway. He probably tried to save him, and what'd he get for it? He got shot. He didn't even die at the hands of a villain or in an explosion or something heroic like that. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and he could have just stood back and done nothing. But no, not Tony. He just had to try to save everyone. He died because he was a hero, even without the suit, he died because he cared too much.

Steve dropped to the floor, tears flooding his eyes. _Tony was gone and he was never coming back._

Two hours later, Steve stood up shakily. He walked slowly up to his and Tony's room, the room that Tony would never step foot in again. He changed out of his workout clothes, he wasn't going for a run today, and into a pair of jeans and the first t-shirt he grabbed from his drawer.

He headed down to the garage for his motorcycle. He didn't want to drive the car that Tony fixed for him as a fifth anniversary present, and he didn't want to call the company and request a car, either. Besides, the air would do him good. At least, he hoped it would. It probably wouldn't do a damn thing, but he didn't care, really. He just wanted to get this over with so that he could, well, he didn't really know what he would do, but he'd do something. Anything.

He entered the office and cleared his throat, not really wanting to say anything, but knowing he had to. 'I uh, I came here to, I came here for T-tony." His voice cracked when he said Tony's name and he felt like his world was breaking apart again.

"Oh. Right." The woman at the desk nodded and set down her stack of files. "Officer Milligan told me you'd be by. Forgive the mess." She tried to smile at him, but couldn't seem to manage it. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Rodgers."

"Yeah. Uh, yeah." Steve nodded. He really didn't want to talk about this. He just wanted this to be done.

"This way." The woman, her name wasn't really important at this time, lead him down a hallway. "In here. Are you sure you can do this?"

"Yeah." Steve followed her through the door.

The room was dark with three metal tables, one of which was taller and covered with a white sheet. _That must be Tony._ Steve swallowed hard. He could do this.

"You ready?" The woman asked, stopping beside the white covered table and gripping the sheet loosely. "You don't have to do this, you know. We could get someone else to if you-"

"I can do it. I just- Just- It's Tony, right? And I'm his husband so it should be me and I just- Just show me, please." Steve struggled with the words. He really didn't want to see Tony like that because that would be final. It would be proof he was never coming back, but he had to.

"Alright." The woman pulled the sheet back enough to show his face.

Steve choked back a sob. It was Tony, but he didn't look like Tony. He was pale and had dark rings around his eyes. He wasn't smirking or smiling and it was _just so wrong._

Steve wasn't sure what to say. It was Tony, that much was true, but what did he say. 'Yes, that's my husband?' Yes, that's my entire world you have laying on your table? Yes, that's twenty years of marriage and the possibility of fifty more lying dead there? Yes, that's the best thing that's ever happened to me and the father of my son and _that's my everything on that table?_ What the hell was he supposed to say? "That's h-him. That's Tony." Steve finally said.

He just wanted to run away. To wake up screaming in Tony's arms with him muttering comforting things. _'Shh, it's alright, love. It was just a dream. I'm here, you're okay, now.'_ He wanted Tony to walk up behind him and yell 'Gotcha!' before collapsing into a fit of giggles. He wanted anything, anything but this. He just wanted Tony to wake up. He shouldn't be dead. Steve should have saved him. What's the point of being Captain America if he couldn't even save one person? One single person. The person that meant the most to him, the person that was his entire reason for fighting?

Steve was going to be sick. He clamped a hand over his mouth and ran. Ran all the way out of the building and didn't stop until he hit a pack of grass. Falling down on his knees he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass. He gasped for breath as tears streamed down his face. It was official now. It wasn't a joke or a dream. Tony was dead. He was gone forever, and he wasn't coming back, and he was just fucking gone!

And how the hell was he supposed to tell Peter?

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! Feedback is lovely! :)**_


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